


So this is Christmas

by gothikmaus



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Advent Calendar, Attempt at Humor, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, M/M, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27801724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothikmaus/pseuds/gothikmaus
Summary: A collection of Christmas/Winter-inspired Good Omens ficlets. Some are Aziraphale/Crowley, others could be read as gen. Mostly humorous and fluffy.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 48
Collections: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2020





	1. Snow

**Author's Note:**

> I was looking for a Good Omens Advent Calendar, but couldn't find any for 2020, so I decided to make my own. The 24 ficlets are already written, I'll be posting one each day between the 1st and 24th December. 
> 
> I also created the "Good Omens Advent Calendar 2020" (GOAdvent2020) collection and this little graphic, feel free to join in the fun! The more, the merrier!

"I'll never understand why humans like snow. It's cold, and wet, and... cold," Crowley grumbled as he stepped into the bookshop, a gust of icy air blowing inside before he slammed the door shut.

"Oh, hello, dear." Aziraphale put the steaming mug he was holding down on the coffee table and got up to greet him. "You've never liked cold climates, have you?"

"I just don't see the appeal," Crowley replied, not removing his coat and glaring at the snow through the window.

"Well, you could focus on the positive sides."

"Which are?" the demon asked, an eyebrow raised almost comically above the rim of his sunglasses.

"You could use the cold weather as an excuse to stay in," Aziraphale said as he turned the sign on the front window to "Closed" and locked the door. "Relax a little," he added, taking off Crowley's wet coat and hanging it up next to his own, before grabbing the demon's hand and pulling him towards the back of the shop. "Drink something warm," he went on, pushing Crowley down on the cushions and sitting down next to him. "And forget about the outside world for a while." He reached for a blanket and covered them both, then placed an arm around the demon's shoulders and pulled him close.

"What do you think?" the angel asked. He picked up the mug with his free hand and brought it to his lips.

"I'll consider it," Crowley said as he snuggled closer.

Aziraphale smiled and took another sip.


	2. Gold

"Wow. They really went all out, didn't they?" Crowley said as they stepped into the lobby of the Ritz.

The spacious room was glittering with shiny Christmas decorations: blown glass baubles and stars hanging from the branches of deep green fir trees, long tinsel artfully draped over doors and windows, candles standing on every table and shelf. Everything was in subtly different tones of gold; the result should have been garish, but, as it always happened at the Ritz, the whole picture created a sense of elegance and warmth.

"I like gold. It gives everything a certain... glow. Don't you like it?"

"Nah, not really my colour."

"But you have golden eyes, and they're very pretty."

"They're not pretty! They're ssscary demonic eyesss!" Crowley hissed, like he tended to do when he was nervous or embarrassed.

Aziraphale smiled at him.

"Of course, how silly of me to forget. Shall we? Our table should be ready."


	3. Gingerbread

"What's this smell?" Crowley asked as he walked into the kitchen.

"I'm baking gingerbread men."

The demon frowned.

"You know you could just buy them, right?"

"Oh, but where's the fun in that? Putting all the ingredients together, waiting for the oven to ping..."

"Getting completely covered in flour..." Crowley added, rubbing some of said flour off of Aziraphale's cheek with his thumb.

"Ah, well. That's all part of the process."

Crowley tried very hard not to smile. He snatched one of the gingerbread men from the tray and bit its tiny head off. 

"Mmh. Not bad."

Aziraphale's smile was so radiant he could've baked an entire batch of biscuits with the warmth emanating from it.

"Oh, I'm so glad you like them."

The demon felt his cheeks grow dangerously warm and hurriedly left the kitchen.

"Hurry up with those, I got us tickets for that play you wanted to see."

"Oh, splendid! And we can have tea and gingerbread men when we come back."

Crowley popped the rest of the biscuit into his mouth, trying to ignore just how ridiculously adorable his angel was.


	4. Christmas Lights

"They get more and more elaborate with each passing year," Aziraphale said, looking up at the Christmas lights illuminating the rapidly darkening sky. "It's like humans need to compensate for not being able to see the stars any more."

"Well, they wouldn't need to put up such an obnoxious show if they didn't use all these artificial lights, or switched them off every now and then," Crowley pointed out. He was mildly offended by the fact he couldn't see some of his best creations just because some silly humans had decided everything must be always lit up.  


"Don't be so strict, dear. Humanity has always been afraid of the dark and what might lurk in its depth. This is just their way to..."

As they turned into Regent Street, they both stopped dead in their tracks. A series of massive angels, made up of what must've been thousands of lights, were hovering over the street.

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

"You were saying?"

Aziraphale's face turned an alarming shade of red.

"I'm going to talk to the mayor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you aren't familiar with the Regent Street Christmas lights mentioned in this ficlet: **[The Spirit of Christmas](https://www.regentstreetonline.com/events/the-spirit-of-christmas-2020)**


	5. Angels

"Are all angels arseholes?"

Aziraphale almost choked on the tea he was sipping.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Humans seem to believe angels are deeply good and caring creatures," Crowley went on, nodding towards the angel perched on top of the Christmas tree standing in a corner of the café. "But from my experience, they're all arseholes. With only one exception."

Aziraphale sighed.

"The way I see it, Heaven is very similar to a human army: you receive orders and you don't really question them, because, you know, they come from God."

"Except it's not really like that, is it? When was the last time She spoke directly to any of you?"

Aziraphale remained silent, all his focus directed at his cup of tea. Crowley mentally kicked himself for ruining the mood.

"You know what? You've been around for such a long time, humans probably think all angels are like you. That's the only explanation."

Aziraphale glanced up, a small smile dawning on his lips. Crowley's heart did the funny thing it always did when the angel looked at him like that.

"Cake?" the demon suggested, just to change the subject.

"Please."

"What are you getting?" he asked as he raised his hand to get the waiter's attention.

Aziraphale's smile turned mischievous.

"I believe some angel food cake is in order."


	6. Advent Wreath

"Hey, angel, are you ready for..." Crowley stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway. "What's that?"

Aziraphale turned in the direction the demon was staring at.

"That's an Advent Wreath: you light one candle on each of the four Sundays leading up to Christmas."

"Yeah, I'm familiar with the concept. Just... Do they have to be _real_ candles?" he asked, eyeing the decoration with a strangely worried expression. 

Only two of the four red candles were lit, the tiny flames flickering lightly and emitting a soft glow. Aziraphale didn't understand why Crowley seemed to be so upset at first. Then it clicked.

"Oh, Crowley," he walked to him and took one of his hands. "It's perfectly safe, I put a small protective miracle on it. Nothing's going to happen."

The demon didn't look too reassured.

"But if it makes you feel better, I'll just put them out before we go," he added, and turned towards the wreath. He blew softly and the small flames disappeared, leaving a thin thread of white smoke in their place.

"Shall we?"

Crowley didn't let go of Aziraphale's hand as they left the bookshop.


	7. Christmas Shopping

"Hey, look! That's Big Ben."

"Actually, that's the Elizabeth Tower. Big Ben is the name of the bell."

Aziraphale and Crowley turned around. They hadn't heard those voices in years, but recognised them instantly. Four teenagers carrying several bags were walking just a few feet behind them, making their way through the throng of Christmas shoppers.

"Yeah, whatever. We're not here for a history lesson."

"Speaking of which, we should hurry: we only have two hours before our train and I still have a ton of presents to buy."

"You know, you don't have to conform to this consumerist ritual that Christmas has been turned into," the only girl of the group pointed out.

"Then why are you carrying all those bags?"

They went on chatting animatedly as they strolled down the crowded London street. As they walked past them, one of the boys slowed down and looked at the angel and demon. He smiled, and his eyes seemed to have an unnatural sparkle in them.

Before either of them could react, Adam Young had already moved along and caught up with his friends, busy planning the rest of their afternoon.


	8. Poinsettia

"I'm terribly sorry, but we're about to close," Aziraphale said as the small bell above the front door chimed.

"Yeah, I know," a familiar voice replied.

"Oh, hello, dear. I wasn't expecting you."

As the angel turned around to greet him, his eyes went wide. Most of Crowley's upper body was hidden behind the biggest, most luxuriant poinsettia he had ever seen.

"Thought the bookshop could use a little colour," was the demon's only explanation as he put the pot down on a coffee table.

"Thank you, it's beautiful," Aziraphale said admiring the bright red leaves.

"Don't say that too often, it'll go to its head," Crowley commented, shooting a pointed look at the plant. A light tremor run through the foliage.

"Dinner?" he asked, looking back up.

Aziraphale swapped his home jacket for his coat and followed the demon out of the bookshop.

Once alone, the poinsettia gave the plant equivalent of a sigh of relief and relaxed for the first time in its life.


	9. Red

"Hey, angel. Got something for you."

Crowley handed Aziraphale a bright red box with the name of one of the angel's favourite bakeries printed on it.

"Oh. Thank you."

Aziraphale put the box down on his writing desk and opened it. A delighted expression lit up his whole face when he saw what was inside: four red velvet cupcakes, each topped with a perfect swirl of white creamy frosting and sprinkled with tiny red and green sugar stars. 

"They had a special Christmas edition of those cupcakes you like, so I got you a few."

"Oh, Crowley, thank you so much: I haven't had red velvet in such a long time. Let me just close the bookshop and put the kettle on, we can share them with a nice cup of tea."

"Don't worry, angel, you can have them all. You know I don't have much of a sweet tooth."

"Please?"

Damn. How could Crowley resist those pleading eyes?

"All right. But no sugar in my tea!" he conceded as he flopped down on the sofa.

Aziraphale was glowing with happiness as he locked the front door.


	10. Ice Skating

"Is something wrong? You usually enjoy this."

Crowley was leaning against the ice rink railing, looking utterly bored. He normally liked ice skating, it was the perfect environment to cause trouble: children wailing because they didn't want to go home, teenagers sulking because their crushes were skating hand in hand with someone else, people tripping and falling into the arms of the wrong person, making their respective partners jealous. But that day he just wasn't in the mood.

"Yeah, no, it's just all this Christmas cheer, it's so sappy I can feel my teeth rot. And the music. Really not feeling the music."

Suddenly, his expression changed and a wolfish grin appeared on his face. He straightened up and snapped his fingers. The music crackled for a second and the soft tune morphed into a rock'n'roll version of 'Jingle Bells'.

"Now we're talking!"

He pushed himself off the railing and, before Aziraphale had time to realise what was happening, he grabbed the angel's hand and pulled him towards the centre of the rink.

"Crowley! Wait!"

The demon ignored his protests and started twirling him around in what was the equivalent of a '50s boogie-woogie on ice. Meanwhile, people all around them went from skating placidly along the rink (with the occasional jump by the more proficient skaters), to uncoordinated dancing in time with the syncopated rhythm. In a matter of seconds, the whole place was in chaos.

"You're incorrigible," Aziraphale scoffed, but did nothing to change things back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my mind, Aziraphale and Crowley are dancing to this version of [**"Jingle Bells" by the Brian Setzer Orchestra**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-7M1RB_fdHk).


	11. Nativity

"Were you there when… You know?" Crowley asked, gesturing vaguely towards the nativity scene in the shop window.

Aziraphale frowned. It took him a few seconds to understand what the demon was actually asking.

"Oh, when He was born? I wasn't supposed to be there: a special choir of angels was specifically appointed for the occasion."

Crowley studied him through the dark lenses of his sunglasses.

"So you weren't there?"

"Well, my presence wasn't required," he said, wringing his hands and looking away. "But I didn't have any other plans for that night, and I thought 'I have much more experience with humans than this fancy choir has, what if they need help?' So, you know…"

"So you invited yourself to the party."

"Oh, Crowley, how could I miss it? They send me to earth to protect humans and then expect me to _not_ be there when the Son of God is born?"

"Well," Crowley replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I don't think you did anything wrong. It's not like you disobeyed a direct order, right?"

"Mmh." Aziraphale stared at the tiny statues of Joseph and Mary surrounded by shepherds and sheep. "Why did you want to know?"

The demon shrugged.

"That little guy over there reminded me of you," he said, nodding towards an angel statue with curly blond hair.

"I look nothing like that!" Aziraphale retorted, looking mildly affronted.

"I don't know, maybe with the right clothes... I haven't seen you wear a tunic in a while."

"And you won't any time soon!"

Crowley grinned. 

"You just need the right amount of alcohol."

He ignored Aziraphale's indignant comments as they walked away. He would have the angel in a tunic and sandals before Christmas Eve.


	12. Mistletoe

"Mistletoe in the doorway? Really?"

"Oh, hello Crowley, I didn't hear you come in."

The demon was standing a few feet away, leaning against a bookshelf with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"I'm putting up some Christmas decorations. ‘Tis the season after all."

"Yeah, but that specific decoration? One might think you have an ulterior motive."

Aziraphale tilted his head a little and looked at him through half-lowered eyelids.

"What if I do?"

Crowley straightened up and walked to him. 

"You don't need an excuse to kiss me, angel."

"Well, maybe I want an excuse," Aziraphale replied, moving closer and placing both hands on the lapels of the demon's jacket. "Something to remind me I should kiss you every time I can. We wasted such a lot of time."

Crowley's cheeky grin turned softer.

"Well, let’s not waste any more time then."

Aziraphale didn't need to be told twice.


	13. Mulled Wine

"Why did you insist on coming all the way here? There are a lot of Christmas markets in London, much bigger and fancier. What's so special about this?"

The drive had taken almost two hours and, to be perfectly honest, Crowley was rather disappointed. The market in question consisted of about a dozen stalls, selling mostly handmade goods, scattered in the garden behind what had to be the main, if not only, church of the village. Aziraphale only spared them a fleeting glance (eyes lingering longer on the ones selling cakes and chocolate), and made a beeline to a small stand almost at the end of the market.

"You'll see," he answered.

The stall was tiny and only sold one thing, as a hand-painted sign clearly stated: mulled wine.

"Really, angel? All this fuss for some bloody mulled wine?"

"Hush, you," Aziraphale silenced him, before addressing the woman standing behind the makeshift counter. "Hello, dear. Two glasses, please."

The woman filled two paper cups and handed them over to him. Aziraphale thanked her, paid, and gave one of the cups to Crowley.

The demon studied it sceptically before taking a sip.

The wine was pleasantly hot, and instantly sent a wave of warmth through him. What really surprised him, though, was the taste: the sharpness of cloves was balanced by the sweetness of anise, the strong aroma of cinnamon complemented the zesty taste of orange without being overwhelming.

It was the best mulled wine he had ever had.

Aziraphale was looking at him expectantly.

"Not bad," Crowley muttered, and took another sip.

The angel hid his satisfied smile behind his paper cup and headed towards the chocolate stand.


	14. Scarf

"It's rather windy today," Aziraphale commented looking out of the window. "I'd better wear a scarf. I just bought a delightful new one, it's so soft and warm."

"Let me guess: tartan?"

"I'll never understand what you have against tartan. It looks distinguished."

"And boring," Crowley whined.

The demon followed Aziraphale to the back of the shop. While the angel was searching among piles of books, muttering under his breath, Crowley's gaze fell upon a dark spot on the writing desk, the black shape standing out sharply against the muted tones that dominated the rest of the room. He reached out and picked it up.

"I'm ready, we can go."

Crowley looked up. Aziraphale was indeed wearing a tartan scarf, the beige and brown and light blue the same as his bow tie. As soon as the angel saw what Crowley was holding, his expression turned embarrassed.

"Ah, that's nothing."

"It's a scarf," the demon pointed out.

"Yes, but… It's nothing. Shall we go?"

Crowley couldn't understand why Aziraphale seemed so nervous. It was just a scarf. A handmade one, by the look of it.

"Did you knit this?"

Aziraphale actually blushed.

"Well, I got bored some time ago and remembered about this old book on knitting I found while I was tidying up the shelves, so I thought I'd try my hand at it. It didn't turn out very well, though. I meant to throw it away, but forgot."

Crowley felt there was something more than that, some crucial piece of information that was missing. Why had the angel chosen black wool, for instance. He never wore black.

"So, dinner? I'm really rather peckish."

He was about to put the scarf back down on the desk, when it finally dawned on him.

"Mind if I borrow it? Wouldn't want to catch a cold."

Without waiting for a reply, he wrapped the scarf around his neck and walked towards the front of the shop, missing the surprised, fond look on Aziraphale's face.


	15. Baby, It's Cold Outside

"All right, thanks for the wine," Crowley said as he got up from the sofa.

"Oh, you're leaving already?" Aziraphale asked, looking slightly disappointed.

"Yeah, don't wanna keep you from whatever you were doing earlier. Inventory, was it?"

"Ah, well, it's not so urgent," the angel replied getting to his feet. "You can stay a little longer."

"Don't worry, I've got things to do too. My plants have been slacking lately."

He stopped in front of the window. A veritable blizzard had picked up while they were drinking in the backroom.

"At least wait until the weather gets better," Aziraphale insisted. "I wouldn't want you to drive in a snow storm."

"You know the Bentley can drive through anything."

"Yes, well, but still..."

The angel trailed off as he noticed music playing softly in the background. His ancient gramophone had apparently started playing of its own accord. He felt his cheeks grow warmer as he realised what song it had actually chosen to play.

_I've got to get home  
(Baby, you'll freeze out there)  
Say, lend me a coat?  
(It's up to your knees out there)  
You've really been grand  
(I thrill when I touch your hand)_

Crowley wasn't even trying to hide his smirk.

"Are you trying to tell me something?"


	16. Sleigh

"Crowley, look!" Aziraphale exclaimed. 

About a dozen overexcited children were queueing with their parents in front of the Christmas photo stand, waiting to take a picture with Santa on his sleigh. The set-up also included a rather detailed reproduction of a reindeer, its bright red nose standing out sharply in the artificial light of the stand.

"Yeah, what? Wanna take a picture with Santa?" the demon asked in an amused tone.

The angel didn't reply, just stared at him with his trademark puppy dog eyes.

"You've got to be kidding me," Crowley groaned, but walked to the end of the line anyway, a beaming angel in tow.

When it was their turn, the young woman dressed up as an elf acting as assistant glanced at them dubiously, but didn't comment and just invited them to take their place. They sat on either side of Santa (who also didn't comment on the unlikely duo) and smiled as the photographer took the picture. Or rather, Aziraphale smiled, while Crowley put on his best 'I'm too cool for this, but I'm going to sit through it with as much dignity as I can muster' expression.

"Thank you, you can get your picture at the table over there. Next!" the elf-assistant chirped and ushered them off.

The pick-up point was a small stall with a table, a laptop, and a digital screen that showed a series of pictures on a loop: Santa with smiling children, Santa with crying children, Santa with children just sitting there, looking vaguely in the direction of the camera with a vacant expression on their face. A young man wrapped up in a big coat, scarf, woollen hat and what looked like two pairs of gloves welcomed them. 

"Hello, please take a look at the preview on the screen and..."

The man's voice trailed off and he just gawked at the screen. Aziraphale frowned and looked too.

In the photo, Rudolph was sporting incandescent red eyes and a pair or massive, pitch-black bat wings.

Crowley grinned. 

"Two copies please."


	17. A Christmas Carol

"I can't believe this is still so popular," Crowley commented as the closing credits rolled on. He was sprawled on the sofa, Aziraphale sitting next to him.

"Well, it's the perfect metaphor for everything Christmas stands for: the hardships of life, the importance of family, hope. And of course, there’s the final redemption, the fact that love always wins in the end and can thaw even the coldest, most withered heart." 

Crowley rolled his eyes.

"I’m not so sure about this modern version, though," Aziraphale went on. “The old lady seemed a little over the top. But the Ghost of Christmas Past was very stylish."

The demon snorted.

"Of course you'd like that stuffy, ancient-looking guy: you share the same fashion sense. The Ghost of Christmas present, though. He was quite cool."

"Mmh. He actually reminded me of you," the angel commented. "Especially the skinny jeans," he added with a twinkle in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The version of "A Christmas Carol" Aziraphale and Crowley are watching in this chapter is, of course, "Nan's Christmas Carol".


	18. Holly

"What are you doing out here? It's freezing."

Aziraphale turned towards Crowley, who had joined him in the garden.

"I was admiring the holly. It's beautiful, you did a marvellous job," the angel replied, running his fingers lightly over the glossy, deep green leaves and bright red fruits.

The demon shrugged. 

"It's quite an easy plant to grow, it didn't take much work."

He had simply made it clear that the female plants had to sport nice, red fruits in December, _or else_.

"I checked the meaning of holly, you know."

"You did?" Crowley asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders slightly.

"It has been used since ancient Rome to ward off bad luck and protect against evil spirits. It also symbolises domestic happiness."

"Really?" Crowley asked, not quite looking at him. "I just thought it looked cool and badass, with all those prickly leaves."

Aziraphale didn't comment on the blatant lie.

"Let's get back inside, your nose is turning red."


	19. Snowmen

"I was very surprised when you suggested building snowmen in our front garden," Aziraphale said, putting the finishing touches to his creation. It was a very traditional snowman: a carrot for nose, buttons for eyes, and some pebbles to create the illusion of a mouth. "I know you don't like the cold, so I appreciate it even more. I'm sure the village children will love them."

The angel took a step back to better admire the final result, nodding approvingly. And then he realised Crowley had been quiet for a while. Too quiet. That was never a good sign. He turned around and almost yelped.

Crowley had turned half of the garden into something that wouldn't look out of place in a Hieronymus Bosch painting: vaguely humanoid figures contorting as if in unbearable pain, hideous creatures resembling sea monsters, and a frankly alarming number of snakes of all sizes.

The demon was grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, yeah, the kids are gonna love them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for this were, of course, [the snowmen from Calvin and Hobbes](https://calvinandhobbes.fandom.com/wiki/Calvin%27s_snowmen). Especially [Snowman House of Horror](https://calvinandhobbes.fandom.com/wiki/Calvin%27s_snowmen#12.2F29_1989:_Snowman_House_of_Horror), [The Torment of Existence Weighed Against the Horror of Non-being](https://calvinandhobbes.fandom.com/wiki/Calvin%27s_snowmen#The_Torment_of_Existence_Weighed_Against_the_Horror_of_Non-being), [Sick Snowmen](https://calvinandhobbes.fandom.com/wiki/Calvin%27s_snowmen#1.2F18_1993:_Sick_Snowmen), and [Snow Monster](https://calvinandhobbes.fandom.com/wiki/Calvin%27s_snowmen#1.2F10_1994:_Snow_Monster).


	20. Ugly Christmas Sweaters

"That is absolutely atrocious," Aziraphale said, looking at a mannequin wearing an ill-fitting green jumper. The garment was decorated with what should have been a reindeer (probably Rudolph, judging by its bright red nose); in reality, though, the poor beast looked like a weird hybrid creature, part horse, part dog, part some unidentified alien life form that the humans couldn't possibly know of yet.

"I know, right?" Crowley commented, looking particularly smug. "One of my best achievements."

Aziraphale groaned. 

"So you're the one behind these monstrosities."

The demon's smile was threatening to split his face open. 

"That was pure genius. It started off as a very simple way of ruining Christmas parties, making people uncomfortable and grumpy and more prone to drown their embarrassment in alcohol. Which, of course, usually leads to trouble. But then humans took it to the next level all on their own: now they actively search for ugly Christmas sweaters. They want to pay money to get something like that! The uglier, the better. It's brilliant!"

"Brilliant isn't exactly the word I'd use," Aziraphale pointed out, but didn't add anything else.

***

"Oh, Crowley, I've been looking for this for centuries!" Aziraphale exclaimed, handling his present with extreme care. The demon had no idea why that particular edition of The Canterbury Tales was so special, but Aziraphale had mentioned how marvellous it would be to find a copy to add to his collection, so of course Crowley had found a way to get his demonic hands on it.

"Thank you." Aziraphale gently put the book aside and handed a package to Crowley. "Happy Christmas, dear."

It was wrapped in shiny gold paper, didn't weight much, and was soft to the touch. 

'A piece of clothing,' the demon thought, smiling as he imagined something black, silky smooth, and elegant. For all that the angel's fashion sense seemed to be stuck in the Victorian era, he did know Crowley's tastes quite well.

The smile died on his lips as he unwrapped his gift. Crowley picked up the piece of knitted ugliness and held it in front of his face. A bright red woollen jumper. Most of the front was taken up by a rough embroidery of a black snake wearing a Santa hat; a series of crooked snowflakes and a rather irregularly stitched 'Ho-ho-ho!' completed the abomination.

"I should've seen this coming, shouldn't I?"

Crowley had never seen the angel look so pleased with himself.

"Yes, you really should have."


	21. Fireplace

"Would you believe it? It started snowing again," Aziraphale said. He put down the paper bag he was carrying and removed his coat. "Would you like some tea? I got scones from that lovely new bakery that's just opened. The couple running it has moved here from London, they said they were fed up with the chaos and stress of living in the city and needed a fresh start."

When he didn't get any kind of reaction, he frowned and walked into the living room.

"Crowley?"

The demon was sleeping in front of the fireplace. But not in his human form. He was curled up on the carpet, snout tucked protectively in the coils of his long body, soaking up the warmth of the fire. The flames reflected on his shiny black scales and gave them an orange hue.

Aziraphale smiled and walked back into the kitchen.


	22. Christmas Pudding

"Are you ready for dessert?" Aziraphale asked, barely containing his excitement.

The angel had explicitly asked Crowley to _not_ bring dessert, which was rather odd, knowing his love of anything sweet, but the demon had simply agreed. Aziraphale had obviously been planning something.

"Sure," he replied, curious to find out what the angel was up to.

Aziraphale was on his feet so fast he almost overturned his chair. He disappeared into the kitchen, only to come back a few seconds later, carrying a silver tray. In the middle of it was a round, dark... something, a sprig of holly placed on the top.

"Ta-daa!" he exclaimed, placing the tray down on the table.

Crowley started at it.

"Is that..."

"Christmas pudding! Yes! I made it myself!"

Crowley had never seen the angel so ecstatic.

"Oh, wait! I almost forgot the best part!"

He rushed into the kitchen again and came back with a bottle of brandy in one hand and a lighter in the other. He removed the holly and poured a generous amount of alcohol all over the pudding, then put the bottle down on the table and grabbed the lighter.

As soon as the first spark came to life, a tall flame enveloped the alcohol-soaked confection. Aziraphale, caught off-guard, took a step back and lost his balance, ending up sprawled on the floor.

Crowley stood up at once.

"Are you all right?" he asked, worried.

The angel didn't say anything at first, and just stared at the still flaming pudding.

"Aziraphale?"

A huge smile dawned on the angel's face.

"That was brilliant!"

Crowley just shook his head and helped him up.


	23. Paper Crown

"This is ridiculous."

"It's tradition."

Crowley eyed the slightly crumpled paper crown in Aziraphale's hands dubiously.

"Why are we even doing this? I'm a demon, I shouldn't be celebrating Christmas."

Aziraphale deflated a little.

"Yes, I know. But this is the first time we're spending the Christmas holidays together, I thought we could, you know, celebrate like normal people." He put the paper crown down on the table. "But you're right, this was a silly idea."

Crowley couldn't bear to see that crestfallen look on the angel's face.

"I mean, if I'm wearing a crown, I'm going to do it with style."

He snapped his fingers and the cheap, battered paper crown turned into a majestic thing made of a translucent black material, decorated with a series of spikes, elaborated bas-reliefs, and shiny crimson stones. The demon picked it up and placed it on top of his head.

"That's better," he said, looking satisfied. He glanced at Aziraphale. "You should wear a matching one," he added. 

The angel smiled and snapped his fingers. The yellow paper of the crown he was wearing morphed into gold, and pale blue gems emerged from the newly formed metal. The final result was simple, but elegant at the same time.

The demon raised an eyebrow. 

"Not bad. Now, I believe you mentioned some Château Margaux..."


	24. Silent Night

"This is so different from London," Aziraphale murmured, looking out of the window. 

A thick blanket of snow covered the fields all around their cottage, the white expanse glittering in the moonlight. The regular ticking of the ancient grandfather clock standing in a corner of the living room was the only sound in the house, and the air smelled of tea and spices. For the first time in a very long time, the angel felt completely at peace.

"Yeah, the city is always bustling with activity, full of lights, noise, people running around," Crowley commented, joining him in front of the window.

Aziraphale turned towards him.

"Are you sure you don't mind all this... quiet? I was afraid you might find it boring."

"Aziraphale, we stopped the Apocalypse. We faced Satan. We were almost annihilated by our respective sides. I don't mind a bit of quiet."

' _As long as I'm with you,_ ' he mentally added.

A smile bloomed on the angel's face and he took Crowley's hand. 

"Happy Christmas, my dear."

The demon raised their joined hands to his lips and placed a soft kiss on Aziraphale's knuckles.

"Happy Christmas, angel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. Thanks for reading and Merry Christmas!


End file.
